


Ghost With No Home

by Amber_Flicker



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 13 Nights of Hartmon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MCD tag because Hart dies but not really, Panic Attacks, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash, Psychological Trauma, Self-Worth Issues, Sensory Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved, and then during series, you really fucked up this time eo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Flicker/pseuds/Amber_Flicker
Summary: Hartley's confrontation takes a different turn. This complicates things.-13 Nights of Hartmon - Day 8 - Ghosts.





	1. stop staring straight through me

**Author's Note:**

> Title(s) from Ghosting by Mother Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PoV swaps between Hartley, Eobard, and Cisco (contrary to my usual one-or-two person only format)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hartley may seem a bit out of character, but you need to remember the trauma he goes through here. I won't spoil anything, but keep it in mind as you read. These things take a heavy toll on the mind.

"If you think you can shut me up..." Oh, Hartley. Too-smart-for-his-own-good, stubborn, clueless Hartley.

"Oh, I know I can, Hartley."

***

That's all the warning he got. Not that he could have _possibly_ expected this. Before he could process it, Harrison was right in front of him, and his eyes were glowing a deadly red color, the lightening lingering behind him a perfect match-

( _redisthecolorfordanger_ )

Even as the glow died, and too-familiar blue eyes looked down at him, he could feel himself trembling, the alarms going off in his mind. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. He didn't know exactly what was happening here, or _what_ Harrison was, but he was smart enough to know where this was going.

"W-what-"

"It doesn't matter." Hartley's eyes were drawn to the suddenly vibrating hand moving towards his chest. He flinched, the next words hurting even more. "I really did like you, I'm sorry it has to end this way, but I simply can't have you warning anyone."

Hartley stepped back, ran into a wall, and had nowhere left to run. It would have done him no good, anyway. The last few seconds were heavy with a sense of betrayal and heartbreak and fear. He whispered out a single plea, knowing already it was useless, _"Please"_ , before unimaginable pain erupted in his chest and it all went dark.

***

 

And then

 

 

he woke up.

 

It didn't look or feel the same, and somehow he couldn't shake the sense that he'd been gone for a long time. He glanced around the room, mind taking in changes as he recalled the events leading up to his... not-death, apparently. Hartley slowly walked out of the room, eyes darting around, afraid he'd still be there, waiting around any corner to properly finish him off. That this was all a trick, a new way to toy with him. But there was... nothing. 

It was empty.

It stayed that way as he wandered around. No one was here. The building was ruined in many places, ceilings caved in and various other forms of destruction. At some point he did pass someone, but failed to be able to wake the man. A coma, maybe? He was no doctor, but the setting seemed to suggest that. It worried him further. S.T.A.R was not a medical facility. Was he dreaming?

He was so busy searching, he didn't notice for a while. When he did, he nearly fell into a panic all over again. 

He had no shadow. He couldn't see his reflection. Looking down at himself, he couldn't stop the dread from welling up. How hadn't he _seen?_ Hartley could see through himself. Barely, just barely, but he was translucent. His skin had taken a slightly more blue tone. He almost looked like himself, the changes were jut enough to thoroughly unnerve him. What was _wrong_? What had become of him? 

And just what had happened while he was out?

***

Eobard jumped at the unexpected touch to his shoulder. No one should be here. This room was hidden, they couldn't possibly have found it, especially not _Barry Allen,_ not this soon. He turned, not using his speed so he could maybe at least preserve that part of the secret, and found-

found-

Hartley Rathaway. 

That couldn't be. He was dead. Eobard knew, he'd killed him himself, gotten rid of the body. _Hartley_ looked just as shocked as he did, eyes wide as he stepped back a few paces.

"Can... can you see me?" His voice was a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and a slight edge of apprehension.

"...Yes." He said slowly, still working over what was happening. He then noticed- he wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it immediately, must've been the surprise- that he could see right through Hartley, if he tried. He looked unnaturally pale, even for him. Maybe this was a hallucination? "Is that a surprise?"

"No one else has," He said, "Even you didn't until I touched you, and I've tried that with the others, it doesn't work-"

" _Are_ you actually Hartley? How are you here? Alternate timeline? Time travel? You are- _were_ very much dead, I would know."

Hartley flinched at the last statement, taking another tiny step away. "I don't... I think, as ridiculous as this will sound, that I'm a ghost. Or something like it. I've been trying to communicate for months, no one saw me, or heard me, and- I can't leave the labs, I can go through walls, I can touch things but not move them. I thought I was _alone_ , but now you of all people see me-"

How long had he been like this? All those nine months since the Accelerator went off- because that's what must have done it, somehow, brought him back as some sort of ghosting metahuman- unable to communicate with anyone? It had clearly been a while, with his almost hysterical rambling. He was desperate for attention, enough to shatter his perfect composure. Hartley had always been lonely; but to be entirely isolated for so long? "You mean you hadn't even tried to make physical contact with me until now?"

Hartley gave him a look. " _No._ Of course not."

"I see." He _had_ betrayed and murdered him, it did make sense. Hartley had been in love with him, he knew that, and it must have made it all the worse. Still, he'd just assumed Hartley would've have tried everything by this point, desperate as he was. "Shall we try to figure out more about this, then? See if you can leave now?" He didn't intend to help him fix the state he was in, but he wouldn't try to stop him from leaving. That would be better for everyone, actually.

The other nodded, casting a wary glance in his direction. "You leave the room first, I'm not walking with you behind me."

Eobard nearly rolled his eyes. "Hartley. You are already dead, you can't talk to anyone else. I have no desire to come after you, even if I could."

He did not budge, so the speedster relented and they left the time vault. As he passed by and interacted with the team, giving an excuse as to why he was leaving early, Hartley quickly discovered that still no one else could see him, distraught at this (he thought he was hiding it, but he was truly awful at doing so).

The problem was this: Hartley was somehow tethered to the lab, perhaps because he died there. He was also tethered to Eobard, since he was the cause of that death, which is why he was the only one he could talk to. 

This meant that he was still stuck there, until he found some way to return to normal. 

 

...Or if Eobard died, which was obviously not in the plans.

***

Hartley lurked in the background each day, unnoticed by anyone else as he made comments about what they were doing, what they _should_ be doing, or sitting silently observing. He couldn't even do what he loved, because nothing reacted to his touch. No more science, no place to go, no interaction with anyone besides his own murderer and former lover. Who was, as expected, doing nothing to help him return to solidity again, if that was even possible in the first place. Hartley found himself helplessly drawn to stay in whatever room he was in whenever the speedster was in S.T.A.R, it must have been some part of the activated connection. Sometimes he relayed Hartley's suggestions to the others, so in a way Hartley was part of this 'Team Flash'. It was the only interesting thing he had to do anymore. 

(As much as he loathed someone getting credit for his ideas.)

He had found that he could move things Thawne- he'd broken down and explained the whole fucked up story after a while of Hartley pestering him- was touching, such as his wheelchair, so sometimes he amused himself with that, but he was still, despite everything, nervous about getting too close to him. That night still haunted him, and the circumstances were no help to it. It was a far cry from the days when _Harrison_ had been affectionate and concerned for him (or so he'd thought)

 

(he was a fool)

 

If nothing else, Thawne did him the kindness of pretending not to notice him when he broke down into tears.

***

"Alright, I'm tired of your silent brooding. Get it out, Hartley." 

"No." Hartley, stubborn as always. Eobard had once found that trait endearing, but right now it was tedious. He was actually trying to help work out some of the issues he'd played a part in causing, but the other couldn't see that, always looking for ulterior motives.

"It's not as if you're going to get anyone else to talk to, and your issues are with _me,_ so go on." 

"Fine. I trusted you, I _loved you, goddamnit,_ and you betrayed me. I thought m-maybe finally someone really loved me back, but of course that turns out to be a lie! How could you just- couldn't you have at least- I don't-" He trailed off, shook his head, a darker tone coming into his voice. "I gave you _everything._ And all I got in return was to be murdered. I can't even _die_ right." 

"There wasn't anything else I could do, Hartley. You should have just let it go. I never wanted this, but you left no choice." He stepped towards him, but Hartley jerked away.

 _"Don't."_ It came out almost as a sob. When he walked off, the speedster didn't try to follow.

He'd known how fragile Hartley was at the start of this whole thing, their relationship. He'd been careful, built him up from what wreckage his parents had left of his mind, and yet still gotten into something that had always been a bad idea. Eobard had never loved Hartley, not romantically, but he'd grown attached. Perhaps too attached, because he should've known he'd find out. He hadn't wanted to kill him- when he'd apologized, he'd meant it- but it was necessary. Hartley wasn't worth losing fifteen years of planning, of setting wheels in motion. He'd made it as quick a death as he could (there was nothing to be done for the pain of it, however.)

No one could have known he'd come back like this. Hartley didn't deserve what was happening to him, but Eobard could not fix it. He could not allow him to rest in peace.

 

He didn't regret the decision he'd made. 

 

That didn't deter the thought that maybe he could have done something differently, and prevented this from ever happening.

***

Months passed achingly slowly, a routine of the same thing over and over and over. Hartley barely spoke anymore. It wasn't worth it. On the rare occasion Thawne decided to engage him, it almost never ended well. He didn't even particularly care about finding a way to come back, he just wanted it to _end._

He couldn't even do that, not like this.

 

Just when he thought it couldn't possibly get worse... That's exactly what happened.

 

He should've seen it coming earlier. It had been doomed to fail from the start, and even if their plan had worked, he still would've been left here alone. Not that it mattered now. Hartley had been able to do nothing but watch as it fell apart. Eobard Thawne was dead. And with him went Hartley's only companion.

The Labs felt emptier than they had in months. With Barry gone, the others didn't come in as often, and Hartley couldn't communicate with them anyway. He was an observer of a life he couldn't touch. Despite this, he dearly missed the days when the cortex was bustling with activity. He could feel whatever small part that was left of his will to live fade out as the days passed by, blurring together. He was left with nothing to do except think. And god, did he. Not about anything particularly coherent or useful. He thought about the man who caused this. He thought about whether he would ever actually die. He thought about every one of the deaths caused by the Particle Accelerator, and how it wouldn't have existed without his help. 

 

He thought that maybe this had all been his fault, and that maybe he deserved this fate.

 

Perhaps even worse was the thought that maybe none of this was real. Maybe _he_ wasn't. He couldn't sleep, and he didn't need to breathe, or eat and drink, and isn't that what made one human? Hartley found himself curled up on the floor shaking uncontrollably more than once, _sobbing_ , deep in existential despair, with no one to reassure him of his realness. If no one knew he was there, wasn't that the same as not existing at all?

Hartley swore that sometimes he saw red lightning flash around the lab.

A few times, he screamed as loudly as he could, hoping that _somehow,_ he'd be heard, be _seen_. These attempts only ever ended in tears.

Cisco was alone at S.T.A.R most of the time, and even he wasn't around every day, with his new job. Hartley lingered close to where he was, and could not remember any longer why he hated him so much before. That part of him was slipping away too, and being a ghost gave one a more neutral perspective on things. He no longer had any reason to have any animosity towards Cisco. It felt wrong to intrude on private moments, but Hartley was so _lonely_ that he couldn't help it. So he saw it all. He saw when Cisco cried, and when his newfound powers showed up and made him stop what he was doing, and how he pulled it back together when Caitlin dropped by. A while into this- Hartley couldn't be sure how long, skewed sense of time- things changed.

It happened in an instant. One moment he was working, and the next, he'd gone into one of his visions, shock still, looking straight at Hartley, who didn't move either, despite not believing Cisco was actually seeing him, that it was just coincidence. But even as he came back to himself, he was still staring.

"Hartley?"

"You can...?"

"Yes?"

Hartley couldn't stop himself from giving a sob of relief. What felt like an eternity ago, he would've hated himself for showing this much in front of Cisco Ramon. So much had changed.

"You've been here all this time?"

_"Yes."_

Cisco had been moving closer. Hartley hadn't noticed until now, until he was but a few feet away. "That's horrible. Even you never deserved that."

"Well. I sort of d-" He stopped. Maybe it would be best not to get into that particular issue now. "If you don't want to help me, I understand." It pained him to even force that out. He couldn't go back to- to _that,_ but he couldn't force assistance, either.

"What? Of course I will. We will." He added the last bit as an afterthought, just realizing the rest of the team would have to be told. "You've been watching all this time, do you really think we wouldn't? Is this- do you think that little of yourself? You were a complete asshole, Hartley, but that doesn't make you not worth saving."

Hartley couldn't remember the last time someone was so genuinely concerned about him.

Which did not diminish how he felt about it all, and he was still wary of the idea that he could be _fixed_ at all. But things were looking up a lot more than they had in a long time.

"Okay."

***

"Do you think maybe if we tried-" Cisco glanced over at- "Hartley?" 

Hartley was trembling all over, eyes glazed as he stared off somewhere past Cisco. He didn't reply, unbroken from whatever trance he was in. "Hartley! What is it? Talk to me!" It had only been a few days, but this hadn't happened before. He didn't know much about this sort of thing, but it seemed reasonable to think he had gone into some sort of flashback or intense panic attack, or both, and Cisco just didn't have any idea how to deal with that. He couldn't do a thing for Hartley. Still, he stepped closer, reaching out-

"I-It won't work, don't e-even bother." The ghost was looking at him now, and his eyes still had that strange look, and he didn't seem to be in any better of a state, but at least he was paying attention now.

"I know, I just-" He stopped. Then, carefully enough not to startle Hartley into getting even worse, he got up beside him on the table he'd perched on. And he brought up what little knowledge of this he had. "You need to breathe, Hartley. In, out, not too fast..." This proceeded for a while, his quiet voice the only sound in the empty lab. But soon enough, his breathing had evened out, his shaking calmed. Cisco wished he was solid, because Hartley looked in desperate need of a hug.

"...Thanks." He almost didn't catch it.

He was hit with the surreality of the situation all at once. A year ago, he wouldn't have ever imagined getting along with Hartley Rathaway, much less trying to un-ghost him and bringing him back from a panic attack. And Hartley was _polite_ and _quiet._ Cisco only wished it had been under better circumstances- anything but this. He'd never, even at the worst of times, wanted Hartley _broken._

 

It wasn't the last time he had to do this. Hartley never talked of what they were about. Cisco never asked.

***

"So you have powers that you haven't told us about until today?"

"Yes. Sorry, I was- confused, and scared. But you know now?"

Neither Caitlin nor Barry decided to argue about it, not right now. Later. "And who's Hartley?"

"He used to work here, specifically on the Particle Accelerator. He was not-wells' 'chosen one.'"

Barry frowned slightly. "Oh. And you're saying he what? Turned into a ghost? Who you can now see?"

"Yep."

"Actually, Thawne said I was some sort of metahuman, but it's basically the same thing." Hartley supplied. Cisco relayed this to the others. It had been a week since Hartley had first communicated with Cisco, and in that time, Team Flash had gotten back together, and Hartley had recollected himself as much as he could. To someone who didn't know him well- and Cisco didn't- he'd seem normal enough. Outside of the panic attacks, at least. And if he still struggled with coherency occasionally, who could blame him, after months without speaking to anyone?

They had clearly not yet found a solution to the problem, one of the reasons they were here explaining it (well, Cisco was explaining it.)

"That's awful," Caitlin said, "Do you have any ideas of how to make him... not be a ghost?"

"Well, nothing solid, but maybe-" He went into a discussion of some of their half-formed theories, and so everyone began to work on the issue. Between Flash business and day-jobs, they tried various tests, all failing and ending in nothing but frustration and Cisco getting even more deeply involved in figuring it out. Everyone was beginning to worry over his health. In the end, Hartley was the one who had to talk sense into him.

***

"You can't keep working yourself this hard, Cisco."

Cisco's glare failed to have the intensity he was going for- his tiredness ruined that. "I'm fine." 

"You're not."

"What do you care, anyway? The only reason you're being this nice is because of what I can do for you." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, more so at the hurt that crossed Hartley's face. He didn't actually believe that was true. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. It's just... I'm trying to help, and nothing works."

"You're no help to me overtired and unable to think straight. You have to take care of yourself. Believe me, I _wish_ I could sleep and eat and-" He cut himself off- "The point is, I've been like this for over a year, a little longer won't hurt."

"You shouldn't have to be a ghost for any longer than you have to."

Hartley didn't know how to reply to that.

***

It took over a month, and Cisco figuring out more about his own abilities, but eventually, they had the most promising plan yet. Caitlin and Barry stood in the background as always, and Iris had decided to come around this time as well. Cisco was wearing his newly-created goggles.

_Please let this work._

Cisco sinks into a vibe, hand glowing with ethereal blue energy, and it was clearly overtaxing him. Hartley had a brief few seconds to reach out, too many emotions bubbling up inside him all at once, fear and hope and the burning desire to be free of this hell Thawne put him in, and-

 

 

he makes contact. 

 

 

Cisco's hand clutched his tightly, afraid he'll slip away. He pulls. He rips Hartley back into the right dimension.

They both stumbled, falling. For a moment, everything was silent. Everyone in the room was wide-eyed, shocked. No one thought this would...

"It worked." Hartley whispered, not trusting his voice to go any louder. His throat feels like it hasn't been used in ages (it hasn't, he supposes, in a body like this) and he aches, but he's free. He's not a ghost anymore. He didn't realize tears were dripping down his cheeks until Cisco reached over to wipe them away. The touch feels like too much and not enough all at once, and it's overwhelming, and suddenly he can't pull in enough air, he can't _breathe_ , he hasn't actually had to in so long, ghosts don't breath, and the world seems too bright and loud and he can't _he can't_ -

 

His vision faded as he collapsed into Cisco's arms unexpectedly, and the last thing he hears is Caitlin shouting orders and running over.

***

His senses came back in stages, first his consciousness, then hearing, and finally his sight returned, hazy around the edges. His eyes flickered around, taking in everything, and there was a dull thudding in the back of his head, but he's here. He's free. The pain is irrelevant. He can't quite believe that he isn't dreaming, because surely this can't be real. But now that he's awoken properly, he can feel someone's hand over his, and that has to mean it's real. He shifted, and Cisco glanced up abruptly. He looked like he hadn't slept in a while, dark circles under his eyes- more so than before- and the overall air of tiredness.

"Hartley!"

He cringed. "Please lower your voice?"

"Oh, sorry, I was just-" excited, he sure he meant to say, "how do you feel?" 

"I'm... I'm great."

A smile crossed Cisco's face. Caitlin walked in then, and soon enough Hartley was answering questions about his current condition. He's surprised when she suddenly hugged him. She'd never been physically affectionate, especially not to Hartley, despite how she tolerated him more than anyone else had, and even after all this, he hadn't thought-

His trail of thought drifted as he melted into the touch, unable to think clearly beyond his intense need for contact. Caitlin pulled away, and he wanted desperately to drag her back in, but he couldn't do that, he didn't even deserve what he'd gotten from her- and Cisco- in the first place. They were far too kind, and he'd never earned it. Hartley couldn't possibly ask for more.

"Hartley, will you be alright by yourself for a minute, while I talk with Cisco and Barry?"

"I've been alone for months, I'm hardly going to die in a few minutes, Caitlin."

He missed the look she gave him at that.

***

"So how is he?" 

Caitlin sighed and shook her head. "It's as bad as I suspected it would be. I'm not sure he'll ever fully recover from this."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Besides being there for him, I'm not sure. I'm not a therapist, I won't be of much help there. He's already gone into sensory overload once, and I think that's going to happen again occasionally, until he readjusts. He's definitely touch starved, so physical contact will be something he's after, but you're going to have to be careful. He's traumatized, and even if he seems okay, you have to remember he's not."

Cisco nodded, a grim expression on his face. He'd had more time to see the extent of Hartley's damage than anyone else had. He could still remember the horror he'd felt when he found out what had become of Hartley, after his disappearance. He remembered when he'd first heard that Hartley had left S.T.A.R, how pleased he was, until he'd entirely by accident found out he'd gone missing. They'd suspected he was dead, but no body was ever found. And then he discovered he'd been there the whole time, yet another secret being kept from them by Eobard-fucking-Thawne.

He wondered what other disasters had been left for them to clean up.

 

It didn't matter, right now he had a rival-turned-friend to put back together.

***

Caitlin had let him out of observation by the time night came around, satisfied that he wasn't going to be overloaded again without good cause. He hadn't even fussed about being forced to stay and rest. 

Hartley didn't realize the problem until he'd started thinking about finally, _finally_ leaving this building. "I... don't have anywhere to go." It had been so long, by now his apartment wouldn't be his anymore. 

Cisco's eyes widened. "Oh, I didn't think of that..."

"You could just take him home with you." They both turned to stare at Caitlin like she was insane. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone for your first night back, Hartley. Not even for a while. We don't know what other side affects there might be, or how you'll react to outside stimulus- you haven't been out there for over a year. You should stay with someone, and you've been talking with Cisco for nearly two months now."

She did have a point.

"That makes sense. Hartley, is that okay? Would you rather stay here? I could figure something out-"

"No!" He couldn't stay here a moment longer. "I-I'll go with you, as long as you're sure it won't be inconvenient?"

"Hartley, of course not. I've kinda gotten used to you lurking around anyway."

 

He stopped just before he stepped beyond the doorframe. Even after all this, he still didn't quite dare to hope that he could leave. What if he was trapped here forever? It terrified him.

But he'd never have gotten as far as he did if he didn't move past his fears, and he wasn't going to start now, not when he was _so close._

 

Hartley stepped across and into the cool evening air.

 

He breathed in deeply. He soaked in every detail. It wasn't quite night yet, on that one magical precipice between being bright and dark, sky a deep, dusky blue and painting everything else in the same tones. It reminded him, for a moment, of the hue things had taken when he'd been ghosting. But this, this wasn't like that. It was softer, calming in a way the other had never been. The air was chilled, but not cold, and the temperature was _exhilarating._ He hadn't felt warm or cold in ages. He'd never thought he would miss something like that.

And the sounds. They were different. So different, from the constant whirr of machines and all the sounds that came with them, the rush of speedsters running about, the constant idle chatter. It was right on the edge of too much.

He breathed out. "Wow." His voice was but a murmur.

Cisco, for his part, just stood by him supportively until he was ready to leave.

***

"You really should eat something. I don't have that much, but..." He gestured to the kitchen, as if to say 'feel free to take whatever.'

"I- oh." _That_ was why he felt lightheaded. He'd grown used to not having to worry over things like this, he hadn't even considered... Hartley looked around, feeling overwhelmed with it all. He hadn't eaten in forever, he couldn't even begin to decide, and would he even be able to handle food after all that? The IV Caitlin had him on for a while had gone fine, but would his body reject anything of actual substance? He didn't _know,_ and he hated not knowing, and why did he think this was a good idea-

"Hey. Calm down, it's fine. Why don't you go sit? I'll find you something, okay? You're alright." Cisco looked concerned again, and he seemed to look at Hartley that way a lot. He hadn't really thought about that, until now. He didn't blame him. He must look pitiful to everyone else. 

Hartley was not okay.

"...Sorry, I didn't mean to be an annoyance. You shouldn't have to take care of me." 

"I don't expect you to be perfect right now, Hartley."

He didn't quite agree with that, but he nodded anyway, wandering off to the living room. God, this was a mess. He couldn't even hold it together anymore. He used to be so good at putting up walls. How did this happen?

_"Hartley, stop. I don't have time for your ranting." He heard the warning tone, and he should have thought DANGER immediately, but it just didn't register._

_"Fuck you." He replied._

_And then, in a way that sickeningly reminded him of that night, he had a glowing speedster in front of him again, looming over him threateningly. He'd pushed a bit too far, and perhaps he'd known exactly what he was doing at the time. No words were exchanged- clearly, he thought this would put Hartley back in his place. He was wrong._

_Hartley_ laughed, _a little hysterical and more out of sheer disbelief than anything. Thawne's red lightning flickered out. If he didn't know better, he'd say that was worry in his eyes (but he did know better). He stopped laughing, off-kilter smirk not fading with it. "I'm already dead, _Eobard._ You can't threaten me anymore."_

He snapped from the flashback as Cisco entered the room, fast enough that he missed seeing Hartley's slip.

Cisco didn't need to deal with his emotional turmoil.

***

"No. I will not take your bed from you, I can take the couch-"

"Hartley."

"Cisco." They stared each other down stubbornly for a while, but eventually both had to stop. "I'll be fine, really."

"That's not the point- Just take the bed, Hartley. For one night at least, please. You haven't slept in one for months. I'll be too guilty to sleep otherwise."

"...Fine." Hartley didn't look as if he had the energy to keep fighting, anyway. The circles under his eyes were dark, and he seemed exhausted. Understandably. Everything had been going well until the sleeping arrangements came up...

He brought Hartley to his room, waited and made sure he got into bed like he was supposed to instead of continuing his defiant streak. He made to leave- 

"Stay."

"What?" Cisco wasn't sure he'd heard right.

"I don't want to be alone" Hartley's expression was unsure, like he honestly expected to be denied. Soon, with only a little hesitance, Cisco found himself laying next to him. It's not like they hadn't gotten really close since this started, but Hartley hadn't been physical at the time. This was different, but he, surprisingly, wasn't bothered by it. He remembered what Caitlin had said about contact earlier. He reached out and gently took Hartley's hand (not without noticing how _cold_ it was, and that just made his heart ache for him even more), grip loose enough for the other to pull away. He didn't, instead tightened his hand around Cisco's, that desperate look back in his eyes. 

"This is okay?" His voice was quiet. Cisco didn't think he needed to ask, considering the reaction, but it was necessary.

_"Yes."_

He moved in a little closer.

"Am I real, Cisco?" Hartley whispered, a few tears falling.

"You're real."

Hartley didn't reply verbally. He just curled into Cisco, sobbing silently. 

 

***

Hartley finally drifted off almost an hour later. Cisco didn't fall asleep with him, busy observing him. He couldn't reconcile the broken man in front of him with the one he'd first met and worked with (or even the alternate timeline he couldn't stop seeing, the villain he became there; thought that one was a little more believable, maybe, he thought, that would've been a better fate for Hartley, in comparison to this), even after all that has happened. He was so different. He was nervous and distrustful and _scared_. 

Hartley did not deserve this. Nothing he had ever done even came close to making this a worthy punishment. Cisco hated Eobard Thawne more and more as time passed.

He wasn't sure where things would take them, or what else life would throw at them. But he was never letting Hartley go. He would never have to go through anything that horrible again. Cisco wasn't sure when his mind had categorized Hartley as someone he needed to protect, but somewhere along the way it had happened. And, laying here right now?

He was okay with that.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow. I haven't gotten this involved in a fic since If Our Love Is Tragedy. As I've mentioned on tumblr, this took up pretty much all my time for writing and that's why it's my first and probably last contribution to this event. But here we have it. 
> 
> I'd actually been considering ghost!hart for months, and this prompt gave me the excuse to write it. I did not know it would turn into this horrible mess of whump. I should not have expected different.
> 
> This is the real ending. However, there's an alternate, which you can also go read. *Hands box of tissues*
> 
> As always, say hi at http://cliches-and-coffee.tumblr.com/


	2. ghosting your dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

The steady whirr of the machine had grown familiar. This chair, this room, this same cycle of guilt and wishing for something that wasn't happening. He barely heard Caitlin walk in, too deep in his thoughts and sights on the man in front of him.

"Cisco..." She said softly, "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"I should have tried harder to get through to him, maybe I could have-" He thought, not for the first time, about why he cared so much. He'd never been nice to Cisco. He'd never done a thing to redeem himself. Yet here he was, week after week, _hoping._

"He's been like this nearly two years. Let him be and give yourself a break. There was nothing you could've done. He didn't want to be helped."

Cisco sighed, but rose. As he followed Caitlin out, he gave one last glance back to Hartley Rathaway, in a coma since before the launch of The Particle Accelerator, cause unknown until months later when they discovered who put him there.

(Sometimes, he wondered what Hartley was dreaming about...)

He had to move on and stop wishing they could've been more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending, not actually canon to the fic! (Though I must admit it very nearly became the true ending. I decided not to be so terrible.)


End file.
